batfamily funny drabbles
by daddybats
Summary: a collection of funny, short drabbles. tell me if i should continue these. updated almost daily.
1. pancakes

Jason was making pancakes in the kitchen. It was 4am, and he knew Alfred would kill him. It wouldn't be the first time. He mixed the blueberries in with the batter and stirred it with the wooden spoon that took him an ungodly amount of time to find. He made a mental note that he was going to let Alfred know that someone put it in with the forks. It was an outright travesty in his mind. (Not that he ever baked more than once or twice every lifetime.)

He was preparing to flip it when he heard footsteps coming from behind the grandfather clock.

 _Great, my demise is coming before I can even enjoy my pancakes._

Only, it wasn't Alfred or Bruce for that matter, it was Tim. His suit was in tatters.

"Alfred's going to kill you!" Jason screamed (and laughed.) "What the hell did you do? Walk through a chainsaw?"

Tim didn't laugh. He didn't even smile.

"Jeez, I know it's early, but what crawled up your nostril?"

Jason forgot to turn his pancake. Now it was burnt.

 _Damn it, Drake. Look what you made me do._

"Jason, I got some terrible news."

Jason raised an eyebrow. Or two. Or twenty.

"Bruce….Bruce died."

Tim looked as though his heart was about to fall out. The room was silent, but only for a moment.

Jason flung his spatula in the air. "Alright, have him call me when he gets back. I know how to make pancakes now."

Tim's mouth fell open. Jason shoved a piece of pancake in it. 


	2. the batmobile

It was 2 in the morning, and Dick promised he'd be back by midnight. To make matters worse, he had the Batmobile.

Bruce paced up and down the cave floor until he was sure he was leaving footprints.

 _I'm going to lock him in his room for a month with nothing more than a single waffle._

It was his fault though. He was dumb enough to give him the keys.

"May I suggest you give him a call, Master Bruce? After all, I do believe that's the whole purpose of that phone bill you pay every month," Alfred said.

Bruce gave a glare that would normally burn a hole through an average man. Alfred wasn't phased. He handed Bruce his cell and left the cave. It was a good thing. Bruce was sure that Alfred's heart couldn't handle the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

He scrolled through his contacts and clicked on Dick's name. For the first time, Dick was a fitting name.

It rung four times.

 _Pick up, you little shit._

"Oh, Bruce, hey! How's it going?" Dick cheerfully asked.

"Where the hell are you?" Bruce asked through gritted teeth.

"Out, Brucie, where are you?"

"Don't even start. I have half a mind to report you to the police for stealing my car."

Dick audibly chuckled on the other end. He was lucky he wasn't home.

"Wow, I'd love to hear that call. 'Hello, police? My son stole the Batmobile."

 _I'm about to shove a fork in your eye._

"Get home. Now." Bruce said instead.

"Aye, aye, captain."

"And you're grounded," Bruce said. "Forever."


	3. little hoe

"Ugh, Bruce, do we have to?" Damian, Dick, and Jason all asked at the same time.

"Yes, you have to," he said.

"I think it sounds fun," Tim said.

"Of course you do, suckass," Jason snarled.

It was photo shoot day. Their least favorite day of the year. They had to look like people. That was pain enough. For Jason, it was especially difficult. He had to be seen in daylight.

"Get your clothes on and get outside," Bruce barked.

Alfred helped each of the boys straighten their jackets on the way out the door. Bruce had his all straight. Alfred didn't even have to fix it. Overachiever.

They all found their places on the front lawn as they awaited instructions from some dude named Joe. I guess Bruce liked him enough to have him do the photo each year. Jason thought he was weird. Tim was intimidated by his beard.

"Okay, boys, come stand over by Bruce. Tim and Damian, come to the front. Dick and Jason, stand next to Bruce behind them."

He barked orders worse than Bruce. Tim wasn't sure Jason could follow that many steps.

"Okay, great. Now, Bruce, you wanted this to be a lawn and garden theme, right?"

Bruce nodded and winced, like the death glares he just got from Jason and Damian were enough to actually kill him.

" _What the fuck, dude?"_ Jason thought.

"Okay then," the photographer said. "Dick, why don't you grab that succulent."

"What the hell's a succulent?" Dick asked.

"The mini cactus, Dick. The mini cactus," Bruce whispered trying to save the last sliver of his dignity.

"Good, and Jason, why don't you grab that little hoe."

Jason grabbed Tim and cradled him like a baby, only to receive a purely disgusted look by Bruce.

"Oh," Jason giggled, "this wasn't the hoe you meant?"

The boys fell on the grass in a fit of laughter.


	4. hobbies

"Jason, I swear to God," Bruce huffed as he and the rest of the boys fell through the door to the cave. Dick ran for the cookies Alfred left out, Damian held close to his father's hip, and Jason casually attempted to exit the cave, gently tip-toeing past the cookies.

It was his hardest mission yet.

Bruce pulled off his cowl and yelled at him to stop in his tracks. He looked back at Bruce. He had his angry face on. It was scarier than the cowl.

"Here. Now," he demanded.

Jason put his head down and walked back over to where Bruce was standing. He tripped Dick on the way.

"What the hell did you think you were doing tonight?" Bruce questioned. Jason went back into the recesses of his memory.

"Well, I jumped on a few cars, smashed a couple windows, framed a nerdy schoolboy for stealing an old woman's purse, and I may or may not have accidentally pushed our man out of said smashed window."

"Hm," Bruce said as he messed with the nape of his neck, "is that all?"

"I think so," Jason said, "it's been a long night."

"Yes, it has," he said yawning. "Oh, and one more thing, Jason,"

Jason looked up at him.

"What do you call murder, sabotage, and vandalism?"

"Hobbies," Jason said.

The room was silent, and all the boys were mortified.

"That I do not engage in."


	5. not funny

They were all working in different sectors of the cave when Bruce came down to check on them. Dick was sitting at the computer typing some code into the server, Damian was practicing his sword handling, (even though Bruce told him he wasn't allowed to when Jason was home), Tim was marvelling at all the gizmos and gadgets lined on the cave wall, and Jason was standing in front of the glass case with his Robin suit inside.

"He does this," Damian said as he caught Bruce staring at Jason.

"Hm," Bruce responded as Jason didn't acknowledge the conversation about him.

Bruce walked down the rest of the stairs and came to where Dick was sitting. He knelt down as if to whisper something important in his ear.

"It is always like this when I'm not around?" He asked.

Dick chuckled. "No, old man, it's normally worse. This is a pretty chill day if you asked me."

Bruce returned a puzzled glare. "How on earth could it be any worse?"

"Well, normally Damian is practicing his sword skills on Jason,"

 _Damn it, I told him._

"And Tim is asking 432 questions about the Two-Face coin and the dinosaur, and Jason is silent crying by his suit."

"Crying, huh," Bruce said.

"Are you two talking about me?" Jason said as he walked over to the two of them.

"Just talking about how much you love your suit," Dick playfully jabbed.

"Love it?" Jason laughed, "Love it? Dude, I'm crying because I can't believe you let me die in that thing. Can you make sure I die with more dignity next time?"

"Not funny, Jason," Bruce scolded.


	6. inches

_Jason messes with Damian_

It was a quiet day in the mansion. Something that was quite rare these days.

Bruce was out at some Wayne Enterprises meeting, Dick was brooding in the cave, (following in the old man's footsteps), Alfred was sweeping the kitchen floor, and Tim was up in his bedroom, probably doing something illegal.

Jason and Damian were both seated in the living room, something so uncommon that Bruce would probably have to blink a few times if he saw it for himself. They were never in the same room if they could help it. Jason decided to take this time to enjoy his presence.

"Hey Damian, whatcha doing?"

He looked unamused. "Don't ask."

"Why? Is it illegal? Can I help?"

"No, you cannot help, and no, it's not illegal. Now leave me alone."

Jason scooted closer on the rug. Damian's sigh could be heard by Bruce neighbors. 50 miles away.

"Hey Damian," he poked, "wanna play truth or dare?"

Damian's eyes lit up. "Sure, buddy, truth or dare?"

"Ohh, dare. I like dares. I am a daredevil," Jason gloated.

"Okay, well, you better get ready. My dare is going to be the hardest dare you've ever had. I don't think you can do it."

"Of course I can," he shrugged.

"Okay, if you say so," Damian smiled, "I dare you, Jason Todd, to leave me in peace and do not talk to me until father gets home."

Damian knew that Jason couldn't break a dare. It was part of his moral code. He watched with glee as Jason retreated back to his pile of magazines sprawled out on the other side of the room.

"I still love you, Dami," Jason said lovingly.

"I hate you with every inch of my being," Damian returned.

"That's not a lot of inches," Jason joked.


	7. check-in

Bruce does this thing, and all the kids hate it. When they're separated at the grocery store, in different rooms of the house, or out on patrol, Bruce will loudly demand through his earpiece for everyone to say their name if they can hear him. The first time he did it was cute, but now, it was beginning to tamper with the children's sanity. So much so that they began shouting back random names. Bruce will never admit it, but it made him laugh listening to what they came up with.

Today at the store, Dick and Tim hedged bets on how long it would take Bruce to say it. Jason tried to leave his earpiece in the car. Bruce shoved it back in. Damian slumped gloomily into the store as if the impending check-in by his father was a natural disaster.

Once through the doors, they all bolted in different directions. Dick went down the cereal aisle, Jason went down frozen foods, Damian went through salad greens, and Tim spent an ungodly amount of time drooling over the donuts and pastries Bruce never let him get.

Bruce was looking at protein powders when he decided to check in on the boys.

"Say your name if you can hear me, boys," he said loudly.

"THIS IS CLARK KENT, AKA SUPERMAN WITH GLASSES, HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?" Dick hollered.

"PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA SPEAKING," Tim joined in.

"RICHARD GRAYSON," Jason yelled.

"Damian," he said annoyed.

"Thanks, boys. You can keep shopping, but we're leaving in 20," he said chuckling.


	8. no profanity' rule

Jason liked to cuss. It was just common knowledge among the family. The boys could deal with it, but the sound of it drove Bruce up a wall. Old man disease, Damian resolved.

It got so bad that Bruce had to start a "no profanity" rule in the house. He got Alfred on board because Bruce knew that the only way his boys were going to follow it was if Alfred was in charge. It had been 2 quiet days in the manor.

Bruce was sitting at the bar with Alfred enjoying a late breakfast while the boys were supposed to be working on schoolwork.

"It's been awful quiet, hasn't it Master Bruce?"

Bruce smiled, "Absolutely blissful."

Bruce had just shoved a piece of blueberry pancake in his mouth when Damian came bolting down the stairs. He looked like he had just been through the first world war.

"Father, please revoke your 'no profanity' rule," he pleaded as he grabbed Bruce's fork and put a piece of the pancake in his mouth.

"Why?" Bruce inquired.

Then suddenly, from deep within the manor, they both heard a blood-curdling scream and Jason yell, "WELL THAT JUST DILLS MY PICKLE."

Bruce rolled his eyes. From that point on, Jason was allowed to say all the curse words he pleased.


	9. dinosaur chicken nuggets

Damian has an issue with confidence. Ever since laying eyes on the people he was supposed to call his brothers, he's been more overbearing than usual. He starts each morning with breakfast while telling Alfred his plans for the day. Then he goes to the study where he often finds Bruce already working. He plops down on the couch and tries not to annoy his father simply with his presence.

After studying until he's sure his brain might explode, he saunters off to the living room to waste time with his brothers before Bruce ushers them down to the cave for an urgent matter that had to wait until he was done with his brooding time in the morning.

Jason, Dick, and Tim were all there already. Jason was lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, Dick was petting Titus, and Tim was talking, presumably to them, but they weren't listening.

They didn't bother to look at Damian when he said hello. Well, Tim did, but he doesn't count.

"Hi, Dami!" he cheerfully acknowledged. Just the sound of his voice made Damian want to shove a fork in his eye.

He gave a weak smile and shoved Jason's legs out of the way so he could sit.

"What the hell, dude? Pretty sure that seat was taken," Jason said angrily.

"Taken by your monstrously huge legs doesn't count," he shot back.

Jason rolled his eyes and "accidentally" kicked Damian in the side as he sat up.

"I'd take it easy if I were you," Damian said caressing his now aching side. "Father will not be pleased if you injure me before our outing tonight."

Jason rolled his eyes again. He was sure they were going to fall out of his head.

"Like we even need you, short shit. There's like 14 of us. I'm sure Bruce could handle one trip without your annoying voice in his ear."

Damian laughed. He never laughed.

"I am above all of you," he said. "My eagerness, ability, and knowledge trumps over all of you."

The rest of the family looked on in horror.

"I am more mature than-"

Alfred interrupted.

"Master Damian, your dinosaur chicken nuggets are ready."

"PENNYWORTH"


	10. dick

Dick was making breakfast while everyone else was asleep and Bruce was on patrol. Even Alfred was still soundly under his covers. It was rare enough to see Dick awake before noon but before Alfred? Bruce would have to see it to believe it.

He was hungry. No, he was starving. He ravished through Alfred's nicely organized cupboards before he found pancake mix and blueberries and decided what he needed to be happy.

Bruce was expected back sometime within the next hour. That gave Dick just enough time to get in and out of the kitchen with an entire stack of pancakes. It was his mission, and as far as he was concerned, it was more important than Bruce's would ever be.

While mixing the blueberries in with the batter, Alfred joined the fun.

"May I ask what you are doing, Master Dick?"

He licked the spoon.

"Sure, Al, I'm making breakfast. Pancakes. Bruce's favorite."

"What do you need from Master Bruce?"

Dick cursed under his breath when his batter didn't make a perfect circle in the pan. That's what he gets for trying to do two things at once.

"What do you mean?"

Alfred smirked. "Well Master Dick, I couldn't imagine that you would ever attempt anything in the kitchen if you didn't need something."

"That's absurd, Alfred."

"Is it, son?"

The kitchen was silent as Dick flipped pancakes and Alfred stared.

"Okay, fine, Alfred. I was starving! I don't know how you and Bruce and all the others live on what's in this house."

"Fruits and vegetables, Sir?"

"Yeah, that stuff! I read somewhere that you need lots of sugar and carbs to function at a level of sanity."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Must've been some website," he mumbled.

Before Alfred and Dick could continue, Bruce stumbled tiredly through the cave exit and sat at the bar. He pulled off his cowl and started confused at the scene before him.

"Dick," he greeted.

"Ass," Dick said back.

A look of pure horror graced Alfred's face.

"Oh, OH, you meant my name. Sorry, my bad. Hi."


	11. i'm sorry for your loss, move on

They were all in itchy bowties and tight pants. Jason was sure Bruce made them come to torture them. He wasn't even sure if Bruce knew who this funeral was for. Maybe he just showed up to random people's funerals because it is his "moral obligation to the city that created him." At least, that's what he always said.

"Do you feel like you're about to suffocate?" Dick asked as he walked up behind him. Jason turned around just at the exact moment to see Dick fiddling with the waist of his pants.

"Yeah, man, mine have had a death grip on my thighs since I put them on."

"There's not the only one," Dick winked dirtily.

Jason smacked him playfully (not really) on the head. "Spare your filthy ass jokes until we're home. We are at a funeral, you know."

Dick coiled in disgust. "Ew, are you actually pretending to care?"

Jason smirked back at him and watched the stream of people continued to flow in. He hadn't seen Bruce or Damian since they got here. Jason was sure he was avoiding him and showing off his trophy son to strangers. It honestly wouldn't shock him.

"Do you ever feel like Bruce avoids me in public places?"

Dick laughed audibly. "Who? You? NO WAY. Who would ever want to pretend not to know you? After all, you are so kind and considerate of others feelings."

"Wow, you're an ass."

They saw Diana, Selina, Jim, and others walk through the door too. Diana waved and Selina gave them a hug that was far too tight. (Jason was sure his pants had finally ripped.)

"Should we go talk to someone? You know, act like we know how to behave in public?"

Jason laughed. "I never know what to say to people at funerals."

Dick decided to give Jason a visual representation. "You just walk up to them, say 'I'm sorry for your loss' and move on."

Jason shrugged. "Sounds easy enough. Let's go in."

Dick followed him as he walked up to the first person he saw. From the look on his face, he had no idea who Jason or Dick were. Jason put his hand awkwardly on the man's shoulder and said as sincerely as he could, "I'm sorry for your loss, Sir, move on."

Dick's eyes widened to the size of light bulbs, grabbed Jason's arm, and ran for the nearest exit. They never attended another funeral together again.


	12. favorite son

Jason's been weird lately. If you asked Tim, he would say nothing's new, but to Bruce who sees his son exactly 1 hour and 52 minutes a day, something was off. He was...affectionate. It was alarming to Bruce who had never once seen Jason pet a dog let alone give his brothers a rub on the back to wake them up in the morning.

He needed something desperately, and Bruce was going to figure out what it was before he resolved himself to actually hugging them without choking them.

He walked into the study where he found Jason laying on the floor with a stack of books in front of him. He looked up when he heard the door close.

"Hey, Jason," Bruce greeted.

"Hey, old man," he said back.

Another red flag. He neglected to call him big-nose, or asshole, or adoptive father. Something was surely wrong.

"What, uh, what are you doing?"

Jason smiled and held up the book with the cover facing Bruce, How to be a Good Son for Dummies.

"Huh," Bruce said, "must be an interesting read."

Jason sat criss-cross on the floor and patted the carpet next to him, indicating that he wanted Bruce to sit next to him. He did.

"Am I your favorite son?" He asked bluntly.

Bruce's eyes widened in fear. "Jason, I have four sons. Do you really think I love one of you more than the others?"

Jason contemplated his answer for a moment. "Yes."

Bruce chuckled and changed the subject. "How's school?"

"It's great," he said, "your favorite son isn't failing yet."

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. "Jason, for the last time, I don't have a favorite. I love all of you equally. You are my sons."

Jason started coughing obnoxiously while Bruce looked on annoyed.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm allergic to bullshit."


	13. what do you love?

"You can't Jason! It's too dangerous," Tim screamed across the living room as Jason nonchalantly told him about the secret mission he planned to embark on after nightfall as he was browsing through reader's digest.

"What do you mean can't?" Jason asked squinting his eyes. "Are _you_ my father?"

Tim shrugged him off. "What does being your father have anything to do with the price of bologna in Zimbabwe? It's not like you listen to Bruce anyway."

"But I like Bruce," he said.

"On what planet? You call him 'big-nose' every chance you get. That's a weird kinda love."

Jason slapped the magazine back on top of the pile that was sitting on Bruce's desk. It was so neatly organized before hurricane Jason emerged. Now there were potato chips on the floor.

Tim was sitting in Bruce's study. In it, there were more books than Jason cared to admit existed. Just the sight of Tim reading one was enough to send Jason into a panic.

"It's not like I'm going to be gone forever," Jason said. "I just want to be out on my own for a while."

Tim rolled his eyes. "There's a reason father never let you out alone on patrol in the first place. Do you remember what happened before?"

Jason pondered for a moment, mostly for dramatic effect.

"I remember explosions, but even that's a blur. It could've just been the 4th of July, to be honest."

"Jesus Christ, Jason! You died! You actually exploded and died. It was not the 4th of July, there were no hot dogs roasting on the campfire, just little bits of Jason scattered on the ground."

Jason's eyes widened. "Well, that was a little...harsh."

"I figured the only way to get you to understand was to speak the language you know...bro."

Jason audibly chuckled as Tim struggled. "You can stop now."

"Thanks," Tim said as they both let out a long giggle.

"If I die, at least I'll die doing what I love," he confessed after a long silence.

"What do you love?" Tim pondered.

"Dying."


	14. trying to shed a tear

Jason was seated at Bruce's computer playing a game when Tim walked in. "You know Bruce will kill you if he catches you playing that again, right?"

Jason shrugged off Tim's attempt to use his father as a weapon. "Who? Bruce? Nah, man, he'll be cool."

"Yeah," Tim chuckled, "about as cool as one of Joker's grenades."

Tim seated himself next to him and watched as the little green man zoomed between barriers and around little policeman with ease. "Jeez, Jason, we should recruit your guy here to our team. He's got better footwork than Dick."

Jason laughed. "You're funny, Drake."

"And why'd you think the old man would be mad, anyhow?"

"Because, Jason, last time you wanted to play a game on this computer, you exited out of a case file that Bruce had been loading for 4 hours."

Tim looked dismayed. "Poor guy's head looked like it was gonna pop off."

Jason huffed when he ran into a wall. "Damn," he sighed.

"Looks like it's game over," Tim said snidely, "back to work we go."

He tried to pull on Jason's monstrously huge arm to stand him up.

"Do we really have to?' Jason sighed.

"Yes," Tim said, "unless you want Bruce to get all sad and lonely and detach himself from the rest of the family, brood in this cave for a month of Sundays, see the light of day just long enough to go to the bathroom, leave the house once every 6 months, and the one time he's out by himself, he adopts another son, then yes, we have to get back to work."

Jason wiped the fake tear from his eye.

"What's wrong with you?" Tim asked.

"Oh, nothing, I was trying to shed a tear of pity, but I think my heart's too dry."


	15. breakfast together

The family rarely ate breakfast together, so when Alfred found all 5 of the boys sitting around the table close enough to strangle each other if they really reached for it, he was alarmed. Dick wasn't on patrol, Bruce wasn't brooding, they were all just… here, and opting not to kill each other.

Dick was petting Titus who was laying over his feet when Alfred chimed in, "May I ask what has brought you all together on this fine morning?"

Jason looked around the table. "Well, Al, we just have a newfound appreciation for each other."

Tim joined in, "Oh yes, our love has been rekindled," he said grabbing Jason's hand lovingly. "Oh Jason," he said, "How could I have ever wanted to kill you before today? You are the love, the everlasting love of my life."

Damian rolled his eyes so far that Bruce was sure they were going to fall out of his head. "We're all just starving, Pennyworth. Don't let these tyrants fool you."

"Never, Master Damian," Alfred replied confidently. He strolled behind the counter and began preparing breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, the boy's favorite. He listened to the chatter that soon grew louder from the table. Dick was talking a mile a minute about a case he was working on, Jason was quizzing Tim on how many pancakes Bruce would eat, Damian was quietly muttering to himself, and Bruce was trying to muster a believable "I'm proud of you, son" amidst Dick's incomprehensible story. Alfred was proud.

Breakfast was served at exactly 8:00 a.m., right after Bruce got the mail. It was quite an impressive stack, Dick noticed.

"Dude," Jason huffed through mouthfuls of pancakes, "it looks like you haven't checked the mail in 3 months."

Bruce chuckled. "No, son, just a very busy man."

"Don't call me 'son.' It sounds weird."

They all continued to pile pancakes by the dozen into their mouths as Alfred looked on trying to remember if he fed them the last week and a half because, from the looks of their kitchen table, he couldn't tell.

"Hey look," Bruce said, catching the family's attention, "someone sent us free memberships!"

Tim looked at him sarcastically. "Thank god, you would've never been able to afford that."

Tim, who had just been allowed to drink straight black coffee, proceeded to spit it across the table.

That was the last time they'd ever eaten breakfast together.


	16. bruce and juice

Tim had fallen asleep alarmingly early: midnight, which was highly unlikely for any of the boys, but him in particular.

After calling his name 6 times from downstairs, detective Bruce Wayne investigated all the locked doors first, then the bedrooms. He wasn't on his own, red flag #1. He also wasn't in the basement, red flag #2. Those were the only two rooms Tim ever slept in, so anywhere else is considered a danger zone from this point forward.

It was 2 in the morning, and the rest of the family was asleep by now too. It was just Bruce searching relentlessly for Tim, but by 2:21, he decided that his sanity was more important. He stumbled clumsily off to bed, leaving the sleeping dog wherever he was.

It had only been 20 minutes since Bruce had gone to bed when behind the trash can in the basement with a pint of ice cream tucked under his arm, Tim shot up. "BRUCE RHYMES WITH JUICE."

He must've fallen asleep while playing hide and seek with Damian, he resolved after trying to decipher just what had caused him to be behind a trash can. He may have just finally lost his mind. That seemed like a more plausible conclusion. Either way, he had to tell Bruce the news.

Either he didn't know it was 3 in the morning, or he just assumed Bruce would still be awake because he bolted up those stairs like it was the middle of the afternoon. He was lucky Jason didn't jump out of his room with a shotgun. At this time of night, Tim was sure he'd kill him.

Bruce looked so peaceful as he slept. It only took Tim a fraction of a second to ruin it all. Tim hopped on the bed, braced his father's shoulders, and began relentlessly shaking him awake.

"Hey, so did you-please stop screaming, it's just me-did you know your name rhymes with juice?"


	17. get your shit together

"What the hell could you possibly want, Drake?" Jason mumbled incoherently. His eyes couldn't focus enough to even read the alarm clock on his bedside table, but he could make out that the first number was 3, and that was enough to piss him off right there. "You're damn lucky you're not on the bottom bunk of this bed, Drake."

"What would be the point of calling you if I was right below you. I'd save the minutes and poke you with a ruler instead."

"Please tell me you're in an alley bleeding," he hoped.

"Wrongo, Jason. I'm in Philadelphia."

"What the fuck are you doing in Philadelphia?" He asked. Like he cared.

"Working on a case," he responded. Typical. "Bruce told me about a drug ring in the center of the city. Said I'd be ideal for a mission of this magnitude."

"Yeah, the "magnitude" of a miniature beagle."

"Whatever Jason, you're just jealous."

"Not even slightly, kiddo. What are you calling me for if you have this huge underground drug gang to break up?"

"Yeah, about that, I don't really know how to get in."

Jason chuckled, "try the front door."

"Funny, dickhead," he responded. The line was silent for several seconds has Tim pondered. Jason hadn't proved to be much help at all.

"Maybe I'll take the skylight."

"Sounds like a plan," Jason said, preparing to hang up the phone before he gave Tim one last vote of confidence.

"Hey Tim, remember, there can only be one dead fuck-up per family, and I was here first, so get your shit together."


	18. a spoon

Jason was in the kitchen of the manor with a spoon in front of the open refrigerator. The light from it was the only thing brightening the space. It was 3 in the morning.

"Which will it be, my friends?" Jason asked sarcastically as he traced his spoon over the cottage cheese, through the grape vines, and back around the back of apples that Bruce threatened with bodily harm if he touched. He was so fucking hungry that even Damian's leftover brussel sprouts sounded delicious.

"God this decision is way too hard," he said as he heard the door shut to Tim's bedroom. It really was a shame that his room had to be so close to the kitchen. How the hell was Jason supposed to sneak Tim's chocolate back to his room without him hearing?

"What are you even doing?" he asked tiredly, scanning the spoon secured tightly in his hand.

"Um," he said, "nothing in particular."

Tim returned a sarcastic smirk. "Oh, so that spoon is just joining you because you're such good company?"

"Yep, that's it."

Tim took a seat at the bar and studied him at the fridge. "Why am I even surprised. It's like Alfred never feeds you."

"Well, let's be clear, he only feeds me if you consider lettuce and onion to be actual foods," Jason answered pathetically.

"I do, just like the rest of the world," he said.

"Well, that makes you like them."

Jason finally decided on the tub of cottage cheese. He was sure Bruce wouldn't miss it that much. He took a seat next to Tim.

"God, I've got to stop getting up in the middle of the night," Jason complained. "My head hurts."

"That's just your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity."


	19. batmobile bickering

Jason and Tim were arguing about something irrelevant in the backseat on the way to Jim's office. Last night, they argued about corn dogs and their relevance. The night before, whether Bruce should grow his mustache or not. Tonight, he refused to listen long enough to join the bickering. He just focused on the road and prayed that their destination was closer than 5 miles away.

"But how could love songs 'soothe your soul', Tim? You're supposed to be a man. Men don't listen to other men professing love for the woman they'll never have. That's what bars are for."

Tim rolled his eyes so hard that Jason thought he might accidentally punch him in the face.

"And how can you listen to that dumb hard metal? You can't even understand a word they're saying."

Bruce groaned from the front with Dick watching amused beside him. "Who needs three Robins anyway?" he said, "why don't you just drop one of 'em?"

"You know I can't do that, Dick," Bruce said sympathetically.

"I know, they're your family or whatever," he responded. "Sure would make a quieter drive though."

"I don't disagree with you there."

3.4 miles. Getting closer.

"Then why is it that only the manliest men enjoy said hard metal?"

"Because manly men are too dumb to comprehend real music with real lyrics. Do you even know what words are, Jason?"

"Quiet back there you two,"

Bruce finally had enough of their endless arguing.

"Make us!" Jason yelled like an angry two-year-old.

"Oh, shut up, Jason," Tim said as he came to his father's defense. "Father is the manliest man I know, and he listens to classical. Talk about something worse than love songs."

"Bruce, can I kill Tim?"

"Not in public," he answered as they pulled into the GCPD lot.


	20. forest fire

Damian was sure Tim started the fire in the first place. How else does a forest fire just ignite from nothing anyway? It didn't matter now. All that mattered was that the fire was here, and closer to them than they were to each other.

"How the hell could I have started the thing?" Tim yelled over the flames that separated them.

"How am I supposed to know?" Dick yelled back. "You are Bruce's favorite. I'm sure he's shown you all his best parlor tricks."

"Yep, starting forest fires from a match, check. Next is when I show you how to kill a man using nothing more than a filet of fish. Stay tuned."

"Not even funny, Drake,"

Damian hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd never see Bruce again. Or Alfred. Or Titus for that matter. That one broke his heart the most.

"He's an idiot," Damian said to Dick. "We're associated with an idiot."

The two retreated to the edge of a tree where they crouched together. "It's okay, Grayson. At least we'll die together."

Dick nodded dramatically.

"Drake, you go die over there."


	21. tree babies

Tim hadn't slept in 3 days, so when he stumbled into the living room with an apple resting on a cutting board and a tween magazine, Damian and Bruce tried to ignore it.

He took one look at the couch and decided that the floor looked comfier. Damian wasn't complaining. More room for him.

Bruce was reading the sports section of the daily newspaper before Tim sighed loudly. He ignored the first few, but by the 6th one in a row, he asked what his problem was.

"Oh, nothing," he answered sarcastically.

"Spill it, Drake," Damian chimed in from the kitchen where he too was getting an apple.

Tim waited to answer until Damian had his apple in his mouth.

"What if trees cried because we started eating their fruit, and their fruit is basically their babies. So every time we eat an apple or something, we're eating a tree baby?"

Damian swiftly spit the chunk of apple he was chewing across the room, just narrowly missing the back of Bruce's head. He waited another moment, and then chucked the remainder of the apple he was holding at Tim's face.

Bruce, not even looking up from the newspaper, huffed in annoyance.

"We're eating their ovaries, actually," he stated factually, waiting for the sound of his son's horrid screams.


	22. fergalicious

Dick was on vacation, and Damian was in the kitchen. That only left Bruce and Jason alone in the cave. Dick had all but begged Bruce for some alone time and isn't due back until Sunday, and Damian could very well be in the kitchen for hours depending on if Alfred had gotten back with the groceries yet. So, for as far into the future as Bruce could see, he was alone with Jason. His favorite.

"Do you see this, Bruce?" he heard his son ask as he refused to turn his head from the computer.

"Bruce?" he repeated.

"Brucie?" he said again.

"Darling father?" Still nothing.

Bruce was uninterested in conversation. Besides, he was busy.

"Why is it that when Dick is here, you embrace him with arms open wide like you can't live without him, but when I'm here, you treat me like I ate the last of your Fruity Pebbles?"

Bruce huffed, "how many times do I have to tell you, Jason?" he tried to continue.

"I know, I know, 'because Dick's Dick, and you're you, Jason'," he said in his best Bruce impersonation.

"Okay, that's it. Jason, not another word," he said scoldingly.

"Fergalicious," Jason snarled.

"I said no words," Bruce reiterated.

"Oh, I see. Two weeks ago, playing Scrabble, it's not a word, and suddenly it's a word because it's convenient for you."


	23. we're adopted

Bruce was busy. The kind of busy that even Jason wouldn't dare disturb. Sitting at the computer, head buried in words Jason couldn't understand, Jason took two intimidated steps back towards the staircase.

With Damian busy with school and Dick in his weekly meeting with the board of Wayne Manor, Jason was stuck with no one to talk to. He had Bruce, but talking to him during busy times like this would be the worst decision of all time.

Jason knew what was occupying Bruce's mind so heavily. He just returned from Metropolis last week after talking with an old friend about the status of Clark. Bruce knew that he had to somehow put a stop to him, but he was so preoccupied with trying to figure out how.

Just as Jason was ready to return to another mindless hour of cartoons in the living area, Bruce whipped around in his chair.

"Jason, fetch the others," he commanded.

With nothing more than a confused glare, Jason was gone, arriving again moments later with the rest of the crew.

Bruce, who was once again facing the monitor, spun to face his family.

"So," he began solemnly, "who is ready to join me against Superman?"

The family looked amongst each other both confused and concerned, and not a sound escaped one. Bruce, sensing the tension, piped up once again.

"C'mon guys, you're my family. We're supposed to do these things together."

All was quiet in the cave until Jason spoke up.

"We're adopted."


	24. tim's doomed

"But what if I die?" Tim hollered loudly with a dinosaur chicken nugget half hanging out of his mouth.

"Tim, it's a routine patrol, not a cage match," Bruce answered.

"But," Tim whimpered, "you're making me do it alone. What if the Joker pops out with his laughing gas or Scarecrow with his fear toxin?"

Bruce chuckled. "Nothing would scare you more than hearing your brother's reasons for not going with you in the first place."

"They truly do want me to die, don't they?"

Bruce grabbed the napkin in front of him and handed it to Tim. "Trust me, if they wanted you dead, they would've found a way to make it happen by now."

"For some reason, I thought that would be more comforting."

Bruce chuckled again.

"It won't be that bad," Bruce assured. "You'll go out around 10, patrol until 3, make sure all is quiet, and you'll be home in your bed before 5. Easy peasy," he said.

"I'm doomed!" Tim wailed.

"You are not, Tim, but if fate says you are, at least you lived a nice life, right?"

"I'm only fourteen!"

"I said nice, not long," Bruce corrected.


	25. jasmine tea

Bruce regretted a lot of things these days. Alfred said it was old age, Bruce was certain it was his insistent need for delinquent children running around.

Sitting in the study, Bruce was as far away from the rest of his family as the house would allow. This is what he preferred. However, when he heard a loud thud and a scream from directly above him, the common denominator was Jason, and he was sure the scream came from Tim. Another day at the Manor.

"Alfred?" Bruce called, met with his prompt arrival.

"How may I assist you, Sir?"

"Bring Jason down here. I need to speak with him."

Alfred chuckled. "You heard that, too, Master Bruce?"

"Unfortunately," he answered.

Alfred made this walk often. It seems as though Master Jason never learned. Unlike the rest of his brothers, he isn't miraculously straightened out by one talking to from Bruce. It takes repeated attempts. Master Bruce isn't used to failing.

"Master Jason?" Alfred called from the top of the staircase. "Master Bruce wishes to speak with you."

"C'mon," Jason hollered. "I didn't even hit him that hard!"

"I would advise against admitting physical violence to me, Sir," Alfred said, leading him down the stairs.

Upon seeing a closed door at the entrance of Bruce's office, Alfred asked Jason to have a seat.

"May I get you a drink while you wait, sir?" he asked.

"The tears of our enemies wretched from their bodies as their bones are crushed," Jason answered.

Silence covered the room.

"I have jasmine tea," Alfred suggested.

"Ooh, yes, jasmine, I'll take that."


	26. 5 days

Bruce left for a mission across the stars last week with Clark. He said he'd be back Monday night before dinner. He was never late.

With Alfred slaving in the kitchen over Bruce's "welcome home" dinner, Dick escaped down to the cave to call the Justice League headquarters.

A distressed Diana answered. Dick had only heard that tone a handful of times. He knew what it meant.

"Okay, yes, alright," he said. "Have Clark meet me at the house. We'll tell them together."

He hung up.

Not a second after he reached the foot of the mansion entrance, Clark stood before him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be."

The two turned to face the kitchen and walked together towards the dining table where the rest of the family eagerly awaited Bruce's return.

"Guys," Dick interrupted. "I'm sorry to kill the joyous mood, but there's something important we have to tell you. Bruce is dead."

The room was silent. Alfred dropped the ladle on the floor and cursed mildly under his breath. Damian and Tim exchanged worried glances.

"Okay boys," Clark said looking at Jason in particular, "start the timer."

Damian looked even more stressed than before.

"I bet half my inheritance he returns in two months," Dick said.

"Bullshit, 1 month," Jason rebutted.

"Half that," Tim piped up.

"How? How can you be so nonchalant?" Damian said worriedly, "Father. Is. DEAD."

Alfred, now composed from his ladle incident, whispered quietly from the stove, "5 days."


	27. give me an example

Dick was preparing for a job interview on the top floor of Wayne Manor. The only reason he resorts to climbing four flights of stairs to get there is because he knows his brothers won't, and quite frankly, the silence was nice.

He used Google for the first time today. Alfred would be proud. He asked this weird and potentially criminal contraption to find some common interview questions. He was good at going into drug busts blind, but job interviews? A whole different beast.

Dick scrolled through until he found a site that suited him. "10 Most Common Questions to Nail at Your Next Job Interview."

"Sounds promising," he said.

Before he could even read the first line, he saw Jason tumble up the stairs from his ajar bedroom door.

He hollered from inside.

"What the hell are you doing, Todd? Was my dredging up these 54 stairs not enough to tell you that I don't want company?"

"Oh, there you are," he said, not seeming to have heard what he said. "Bruce was looking for you."

Dick grumbled. "Well you're not Bruce, and I'm busy."

"We drew straws on who had to go looking for you. Guess no one really cared that much."

Jason plopped down on the cushion, nearly sending Dick's computer flying. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Trying to prepare for my job interview tomorrow," he answered.

"Ohhh, hit me," he said. "I'm great at these."

Dick chuckled. The only thing Jason was good at was pissing everyone off.

"Okay, fine," he answered. "What's your greatest weakness?" Dick read off the screen.

Jason pondered a moment.

"Other than being far too handsome to handle, I'm uncooperative."

Dick, assuming the role of interviewer, followed up. "Give me an example."

"No."


	28. i was still in it

Bruce and Alfred were having their mandatory Sunday morning chat at the dining room table as Tim looked on behind the slightly ajar closet door. He couldn't make out what they were discussing. His crime-fighting super hearing was failing him.

Alfred glanced in the closet's direction once. Sometimes Tim found Alfred to have better senses than Bruce himself. Alfred turned away as quickly as he looked. Clearly, Tim's shadow wasn't visible to the two of them.

Suddenly, Tim's nose started to itch.

Then he had to sneeze.

He knew that such an action would blow his cover.

He had to make a run for it.

Tim waited for Alfred to become deep in conversation with Bruce again before attempting to come out from behind the door. Before he could round the handle, he felt himself begin to fall. It was now Tim's job to make the fall as dramatic as possible.

As he crashed to the floor, Bruce and Alfred whipped around to face him.

"Tim, what was that?" Bruce asked.

"Uh, my shirt fell," he said, not wanting to look or feel any more ridiculous to his father and his father's father figure.

"Huh, sounded a bit louder than a shirt."

"I was still in it."


End file.
